Tell Me What's Wrong
by JenniGellerBing
Summary: When Monica disappears, Chandler doesn't know what to do. Can he survive without her? *EPILOGUE IS UP* Last chapter is sad - you've been warned!
1. Not All There

A/N: Hi - I'm back! This is a C/M fic that takes place in season five, about eight months into their relationship. I don't usually write this kind of fic, but I think this will turn out well. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: As always, I do not own the _Friends._ They are the creations of the most brilliant writers in the history of everything, Marta Kauffman and David Crane.

CHAPTER ONE - Not All There

Chandler sighed as the phone rang for a fourth time. Where was Monica? It was six - she should be home from work by now. Did she have anything going on today? No, not that he could think of. 

"Hi, you've reached Monica and Rachel," Monica's cheery voice said. "We can't come to the phone right now - " Chandler put the phone down. He'd left a message a half hour before. 

"Hi, honey, it's me," he'd said. "I'm really sorry, but I'm going to be home late tonight. The numbers for the WEENUS came in late, and I'm swamped in paperwork, but maybe we can meet for a bite later. Give me a call, okay? Love you." 

That had been at five thirty. It was now six fifteen, and still his girlfriend hadn't returned his call. If this had been a one-time occurrence, Chandler wouldn't have worried. Maybe Monica was out with Rachel and Phoebe, or got tied up at the restaurant for an extra hour. But lately, Monica never seemed to be home. She didn't return his calls, and when she finally did, she gave a lame excuse. They hadn't gone on a real date for almost three weeks. What was wrong? Monica and Chandler had been going out for eight months, and other than the time when he had freaked out about their friends joking about babies and marriage, they hadn't really had any fights that had lasted longer than a couple of hours. They used to see each other every day - and it wasn't like it was difficult, because they lived across the hall from each other. 

It had to be something different. Was Chandler doing something wrong? Did she not want to be with him anymore? Had she decided he was a pathetic good-for-nothing and wondered how she had ever been so stupid as to go out with him? And was there someone else? Chandler knew Monica could do better than him, even though she insisted he was perfect. Maybe she'd finally come to her senses and found another man. Chandler was worried. He had no way to know that Monica was sitting on the couch, listening to the phone ring with tears in her eyes.

It went on like that for a month, and the space between Monica and Chandler grew, becoming glaringly obvious. Many times, Chandler asked Rachel if she knew what was going on with Monica, but Rachel denied knowing anything, saying she was just as puzzled as she was. Chandler tried to keep their relationship alive - got off work early to take Monica out on dates, became more romantic, did everything he could, but nothing snapped Monica out of the funk she seemed to be in. 

Then Chandler started noticing the little things. The way her hand never seemed to find his when they were walking together anymore. The way she stopped calling him at work just to check in and say hi. The way their kisses were cut short, the way they almost stopped altogether. It was like she was letting him down easily. Every day, Chandler lived with the fear that today would be the last, that tonight she would break up with him and tell him what he'd been hoping against hope would never be said. 

Sometimes, on nights when he was alone, Chandler wished she would just end it, that she would stop leading him on like this. If there was somebody else, there was nothing Chandler could do. He loved her so much that he would do anything to make her happy, even if it meant sealing his own misery. 

Finally, one Saturday afternoon, Chandler decided it was time to take action. He couldn't lie in bed at night and wonder what Monica was doing, if she was in another man's bed - he couldn't do it anymore. He had to know the truth.

"Monica," he said, going over to her apartment. "I need to talk to you. Is Rachel here?" 

"No. What do you need to talk about?" Monica asked, and for the first time in several days, she sounded mildly interested. Chandler took a deep breath and stood next to the couch, deciding not to sit down.

"I want to ask you something," he said. "Things have been - different, lately. You're not really there anymore, and I don't know why. If it's something I've done, please tell me so I can fix it. If you don't want to be with me anymore, just tell me. If you love somebody else, I'm not - " he stopped, trying to catch his breath. "I'm not going to stop you from leaving me. If that's what you want to do." 

Monica looked up, but didn't look square at him, instead letting her eyes wander to his hands, nervously clasped in front of him, or perhaps the wall behind him. "Everything's fine. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do," Chandler said, raising his voice. "You think I'm an idiot, Monica? You think I haven't noticed that you, you never even look me in he eyes anymore? That we don't kiss and hug... do stuff like we used to? I just want to know what is going on," he said. 

"There's nothing going on," Monica replied, finally looking him the eyes. "I've been busy at work lately and so have you. Let's just leave it at that."

"Monica - "

"Chandler, just drop it!" Monica said. "I don't know where you got these ideas, but they're not right." Chandler stared at her, then left. 

She'd blown him off. He confronted her, and she'd said nothing was wrong. Why did she have to lead him on like this? Chandler punched a pillow angrily. Where was his Monica, the sweet, amazing, if slightly neurotic woman he'd fallen in love with? When had she been replaced with the cold, passionless shell of a woman sitting out there on the couch? It was unnerving to Chandler how quickly his seemingly perfect relationship had gone down the drain. 

Maybe Monica wasn't sleeping with someone else, but something was definitely wrong. The thing was, Chandler was afraid he wouldn't be able to figure out what it was.

A/N: Sorry this chapter was so short! I'll try to post this quickly - as with my other fic, it's almost completely done! If I get a few reviews, I'll post the next chapter of this tonight! Thanks!


	2. Gone

A/N: Thank you for the reviews! I will put the next chapter up in a day or two, if I get a chance. 

Disclaimer: I do not own the _Friends,_ or New York, or anything else in this story... blah blah blah. 

CHAPTER 2 - Gone

Over the next few days, Chandler struggled to make things normal. Monica, too, seemed to be putting in an effort, but still, he knew, she wasn't really with him.

Then it was Friday morning. Chandler hadn't been able to fall asleep the night before - he'd been up all night imagining different scenarios of how Monica was going to break up with him. He slammed his hand down on his screeching alarm clock. He needed to hit something. He needed to grab something and make it feel as badly as he was now.

Chandler went over to Monica and Rachel's, an old routine that he couldn't bear to drop. Rachel told him that Monica had gone somewhere early that morning but would be home soon. He waited at her apartment until almost nine o'clock, but Monica never came home. He finally stormed off to work. He couldn't wait around all day while his girlfriend was off gallivanting around New York City with some guy who worked in a night club, had a gotee, and was named "Chip," which was how Chandler pictured Monica cheating on him. The made-up pictures tormented him constantly - Monica kissing another man, being touched by another man - it made Chandler want to throw his laptop computer across the office. 

This was it, he decided. Tonight, he was going to get answers, or else he was going to end it. Chandler wouldn't let Monica off with another "there's-nothing-going-on" speech where she wouldn't even meet his eyes. Chandler would not let himself be played for a fool anymore. Not even by the woman he loved.

At his lunch break, Chandler picked up the phone and called his apartment. Today was Monica's day off - she should be home. No one picked up. "Monica, honey, if you're there, I really need to talk to you," he said. "It's really, really important. Please, _please_ call me as soon as you get this message. I love you." An hour later, he called again, and again right before he left work. As he rode a taxi home, Chandler had never been more frustrated. It was so unlike Monica to not even call him back. Even if she was with someone else, she cared enough to return his urgent phone calls - didn't she?

No one was home when Chandler arrived at the building. He got his key to their apartment out of his wallet and went inside. Now Chandler was worried. The apartment looked just like it had when he'd left it after talking to Rachel. His breakfast dishes were still sitting next to the sink, and no others had been added. The answering machine hadn't been checked. Apparently, Monica had never come home.

Chandler went to his apartment. Joey was eating pizza and watching Baywatch. "Joey, have you seen Monica?"

"No," Joey said. "Why?"

"She hasn't been home all day, and I really need to talk to her," Chandler explained. "Listen, have you noticed anything different about her lately?"

"Different? No, no, haven't noticed anything different, not at all, nuh-uh," Joey said quickly. Too quickly. 

"You know, for an actor, you sure are a sucky liar," Chandler said. "Is it something I'm doing wrong? Does she not want to be with me anymore?"

"I don't know," Joey said awkwardly. 

"What have you noticed?"

"Well," Joey said. "She doesn't seem to - talk, as much, anymore. Before, it was like, Monica, _shut up,_ and now, I don't know. She's... detached. And she doesn't... well, Monica used to be all, like, touchy-feely. With you, especially, but everyone else too."

"I know!" Chandler said. "She shrugs off my arm when I put it around her, and stuff like that."

"Yeah, but it's not just you, man," Joey said reassuringly. "When I got that great part last week, it was like she didn't care. Usually when I get a part, it's like she's all hugging and everything, but... there was none of that."

"I'm going to go out and look for her," Chandler said. "If you hear from her, call my cell, okay?" And Chandler left. 

First Chandler talked to Ross, the Phoebe, but no one had heard from her all day. He even called her restaurant, and her cousin's house, but no one knew where Monica was. Feeling desperate, Chandler began walking around the Village, searching. He looked at their favorite deli, the dry cleaners, and that expensive little boutique she shopped at when she got stressed out. But no one had seen "the sexy brunette with the loud voice who always gets ham and cheese," as the kid behind the counter at the deli described her.

Chandler stayed up until three in the morning, waiting by the phone, pacing restlessly around her apartment. The most horrible thoughts filled his head. At this point, Chandler didn't care if Monica was cheating on him with twenty different men, he just wanted her to come home safe. What if she had been raped? Or mugged and left unconscious in an alley somewhere? Or killed? He finally went home and fell asleep on the couch with the phone on his chest.

He was woken at nine in the morning by the phone ringing shrilly three inches from his ear. "Hello?" he said, picking it up. "Monica?"

"No, it's Rachel," Rachel said, and Chandler heard an odd note in her voice. "I think you should come over." 

"I'll be right there," Chandler said, and ran out of the apartment without changing his clothes. He expected to see Monica there. Instead, all her saw were Rachel and Phoebe, looking nervous. "Did you hear from Monica?" he asked in a rush.

"Yes," Rachel said. 

"Thank God," Chandler said. "Where is she? Is she okay?"

"She's fine," Rachel said. "But she didn't say where she was, just that she's fine and... and..." Rachel glanced away.

"She needs some time away," Phoebe spoke up. "She doesn't, she doesn't want to see you for awhile." Chandler was speechless. "And she said, don't try to find her."

"Why?" he asked. "Wha - why?"

"We don't know," Rachel said. "I know she's been, been weird lately, and... I'm really sorry, Chandler. I don't know anything else. But she loves you, I'm sure of it. I think she just needs some time to... be alone. To think, or something. I don't know." 

"I don't understand," Chandler said. "Why would she just leave? We've been having problems, but I thought, I thought we could work through it. Please, if you guys know anything else - "

"We would tell you if we did," Phoebe said gently. "We know you love her."

Chandler stood up. "Okay," he said, although he wasn't sure what he was saying okay to. "Okay." He went home.

_"She doesn't want to see you,"_ Phoebe's voice mocked him. _"Don't try to find her._" Chandler took a cold shower, hearing the last conversation he'd had with Monica play over and over in his head. It hadn't been anything special, but he could only pray it wasn't the last they'd ever have.

He had been over at her apartment, making sandwiches for dinner because she was too tired to cook. Apparently, he'd left the bread open. Monica had flipped out. "How hard is it to just close the bread, Chandler?" she had asked. "Look, watch me. You take the twisty-tie and you wrap it around the plastic. See? Now you try," she'd said in a patronizing voice.

"It's just _bread,_" Chandler had replied, angry at the disdain in her voice. "Why is everything such a big deal?"

"It's not a big deal, it's just... why can't you just close the bread once in a while? Why can't you make it all easier?" Monica had started crying and stormed into her bedroom. Chandler had written it off as PMS. A lover's spat. Monica was always mad about something these days - if it wasn't the bread, it was his placement of the phone pen, and if it wasn't the phone pen, it was the half-drank soda he left in the fridge - always stupid things like that. 

Now Chandler wished he'd followed her into the bedroom. Talked to her, held her, told her how much he loved her, instead of eating his sandwich, going home, reading the _Times_ and watching the Yankees clobber the Cardinals. Maybe then he wouldn't have lost her like this. 

Chandler sat on his bed and cried that day. Not big, choking sobs - just a few silent tears running down his face. The more he thought about it, the less sense it made. Why would Monica just leave if she loved him, like Rachel and Phoebe had said? Just pack up her stuff and leave, without saying good-bye, much less providing an explanation. None of it made sense. His girlfriend was gone. And by the sound of it, it didn't seem like she was coming back anytime soon.

Chandler didn't talk to anyone except Joey until Monday, when he went into the coffee-house and found Ross, Rachel and Phoebe talking. The conversation immediately stopped as soon as he came in.

"Hey, you guys," he said hesitantly.

"Hi," Rachel and Phoebe answered quietly. Ross didn't say a word, just looked Chandler up and down with a expression that showed disgust, confusion, pity and a number of other things. They sat in uncomfortable silence for about five minutes until Chandler got his coffee and left.

_They hate me,_ he thought as he walked home. _They think _I_ made Monica leave._ Maybe he did. Maybe he was so inefficient as a boyfriend that Monica just packed up and left. But why? Why would she leave, why wouldn't she just break up with him? Was there something else going on with Monica? What could there possibly be? Up until a month or so ago, everything was completely normal, and then, almost overnight, Monica vanished. Not literally, of course, but emotionally, spiritually. Maybe, Chandler thought sarcastically, they should have called in an exorcist. 

A week went by, and they was no sign of Monica. Chandler couldn't sleep, could barely function. He hadn't realized how long it had been since he didn't have a girlfriend, didn't have that safe comfort of falling asleep every night thinking, "A beautiful woman wants to be with me," and waking up the next morning with the same thought. He hadn't gone this long without seeing Monica, in, well, probably six years - they lived right across the hall from each other for five before hooking up. Even when Monica had been acting strange, she was still _there_.

On Saturday, a week after Monica had left, Chandler had an 10 AM meeting at the office. Before arriving, he stopped at a donut shop and a coffee-house he had never been to. He was in line at the coffee place, contemplating the effects of a super-tall mocha chill, when he almost choked on his glazed donut.

"I'll have a grande latte, half-and-half, with whip, and could you put some cinnamon on the top?" Chandler knew that order by heart. He had ordered it for Monica so many times...

"Monica?" he said tentatively to the brown-haired woman who looked so much like Monica, if it wasn't her, it was her twin. Monica turned around, and for a moment their eyes met, and it was exactly like it used to be - so much expressed in one moment, so much said without words - and then, without warning, Monica's eyes hardened and she turned back to the counter, quickly picked up her drink, paid, and started to leave.

Chandler felt his heart fall. Monica wouldn't even look at him. "Monica, come on," he said, trying not to let Monica hear the catch in his voice. He followed her out of the coffee shop. "Talk to me, Monica! Why did you leave? Why didn't you even say goodbye? Do you just not love me anymore? Don't you care at all?" A few people standing near the entrance stopped and stared at them, but Chandler didn't care. All these nosy New Yorkers could go screw themselves.

"Don't make a scene," Monica said, but her voice was quiet and strange, very strange.

"Goddammit, I'll make all the scenes I want!" Chandler said, raising his voice again. "Just tell me what the _hell_ is going on? Are we over? Is this your way of breaking up with me? You know, most of the time I at least get an, 'It's not you it's me,' or some other bullshit, but you don't care enough to even _say goodbye_? Just have your friends give me some crap about needing some time alone?" Monica continued walking, faster, faster away from him. Chandler followed her, intent of getting her to speak, to explain. Finally he grabbed her arm and forced her to stop walking. "Why can't you just say something?"

"You don't understand!" Monica suddenly shouted, pulling away. "You don't know - "

"So then tell me! Make me understand!"

"It's easier this way," Monica whispered, looking straight into his eyes. "Please, just believe me. It's easier this way." 

"Easier than what? Than telling the truth? You can't just run away from everything, Monica. You can't leave and think that's going to make everything better." Chandler's voice was hoarse, and he was desperate. "Just tell me what happened. Please tell me, so I can get some - some closure." That wasn't the right word, Chandler thought, closure wasn't exactly right. 

"You want it to be over?" Monica said, standing up straight. "Fine, Chandler. It's over." Chandler felt his face crumple. "See? Didn't that make everything better? It's _over._ Now are you happy?" 

And then she was gone, walking briskly away, blending into the crowd of dark-clothed people, leaving Chandler speechless. "All right, folks, show's over," he barked at the small crowd of people that had gathered to watch. Chandler started walking in the opposite direction that Monica had gone. He didn't care if he ever saw her again. He hated her.

No. He loved her. He loved her more than anything. Monica was the first, the only woman he'd ever really loved. As sappy as it sounded, Monica completed him. She made everything else go away - his crappy childhood, his boring as hell job, any troubles he might have - she made it all disappear with one little smile. Even when she left, he still thought she would come back. That they could work it out. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, as someone once said.

He was right. Chandler was dying inside. 

A/N: Please review! Reviews really make me happy!

-J


	3. Finding Out

A/N: Thank you for the reviews! here's the next chapter - I hope you like it. 

CHAPTER THREE - Finding Out

Chandler walked around the city in a haze for the rest of the day. Nothing could shake him out of it, no thought could come close to getting rid of the particular one.

Monica.

He'd missed his meeting. His cell phone was ringing. It was probably his boss, calling to fire him. Who cared? Monica was gone. He could find another job. Or else he could sit around and drink vodka all day until he drank himself out of house and home and ended up like that alcoholic Vietnam vet that held up that sign on the corner of 42nd and Bleecker on the Upper East Side. Except he wasn't a veteran of the Vietnam war, so he'd have to hold a sign that said something like "Survived Hurricane Monica, 1999." Right. That would work. Well, he could always sell a kidney. 

The phone rang again, sometime - Chandler wasn't sure, but he figured sometime in the early afternoon, because it was hot. The person called several times, but Chandler never bothered to answer. Maybe his apartment was on fire. Good. Chandler wasn't thinking straight, he was thinking crazy. He crossed a street and a horn blared. He instinctively jumped backwards, and a cab missed him by inches. The driver yelled a jumble of obscenities, but all Chandler could decipher was, "Watch where you're going, moron!"

_Should have let myself get run over,_ he thought cynically. Chandler couldn't see the point of living anymore. He'd lost his job. His house had burned down. Okay, maybe none of those things had actually happened, but none of it could make it any worse. Monica was gone. 

_They should take the word shit out of the dictionary,_ Chandler thought. _If it's there, they should take it out and replace it with "Chandler." _Because that's what Chandler had felt like for the past week - shit. Worse than shit. If it was humanly possible to feel worse than _worse_ than shit, that's where Chandler was right now.

Chandler finally wandered home sometime long after dark. Joey was sitting in his apartment, dressed in overalls. "Where the hell have you been all day?" he asked. 

"I was ravaged by wolves and drowned in the Mississippi," he said sarcastically, eyeing the plaid shrit his friend was wearing. _Well, at least I haven't lost my sense of humor,_ he thought dryly. _Goddamn defense mechanism._ "How was your day?"

"I had an audition, but -it's almost ten-thirty, Chandler! I've been worried sick," Joey said.

"Okay, thanks, _Mom,_ but I'm a big boy and I can take care of myself in the big scary city," Chandler said. _Ten thirty?_ he thought. _How could it be ten-thirty?_ _Have I been out there for more than twelve hours?_ Apparently he had. 

"What have you been doing all day?" Joey asked. 

"I saw Monica," Chandler blurted out. 

"You did?" Joey said. "What did she say?" 

"She ended it," Chandler said, his voice devoid of any emotion. "No explanation. Just said it was over and left."

Joey looked stunned. "Oh, God. I'm so sorry, man," Joey said. "If there's anything I can do... " Chandler smiled weakly.

"Thanks," he said. "But there isn't." He quickly walked into his bedroom. 

If it was possible, saying it out loud had made Chandler feel worse. Monica had dumped him. He hadn't been able to stop her, to beg and plead or get an answer. It was just - over. Chandler had lost his girlfriend and his best friend all in the same day. 

The next morning, Chandler didn't know if he could get out of bed. What was the point, anyway? What would be the good of getting up and facing the world when Monica had broken up with him? There was none. Around ten, Joey knocked on the door.

"You in there?" he asked. 

"Yes," Chandler said, clearing his throat. 

"Um - I think you should go over to - across the hall." Joey sounded hesitant.

"Why?" Chandler asked, sitting up quickly. 

"Just - because."

Chandler didn't ask anything else. He quickly pulled on a tee-shirt and a pair of jeans, then bolted out of the room. He practically ran across the hall and knocked on the door. Rachel opened it. 

"Hey," she said, opening the door all the way. There was Monica. She was sitting on the couch, and when he came in, she looked at him. "I'll leave you guys alone," Rachel said, leaving. Chandler stood by the door.

"Hi," Monica said.

"Hi."

"Um. Do you want to, um, do you want to sit down?"

"Okay," Chandler said, walking over to the couch and sitting a good two feet away from her. He was stiff and awkward. Did Monica want to see him? Or was she just putting up with him? Chandler looked at her, and saw something strange, something different. 

"I'm sorry," Monica said, suddenly leaning over and hugging him. Surprised, Chandler nervously patted her back. When Monica pulled away, her eyes were red and there were tearstains on his shirt.

"Honey," he said, then realized his slip. She wasn't his girlfriend anymore - at least he didn't think so. "What's the matter?"

Monica took a deep breath. "You don't deserve any of this," she said. "What I did was stupid, and wrong, and I just - I didn't know what to do. I was scared, and I - "

Chandler interrupted, "You're getting a ahead of yourself." Monica did this often, when she was nervous or worried or had too much on her mind.

"Right. Well, I think, I think I'm just going to come out and say it." Monica swallowed, and Chandler frowned. What was going on? "I have cancer."

Chandler hadn't heard her right. That had to be it, he hadn't heard her right. "Wha - what?"

"I have breast cancer. I was diagnosed about a month and a half ago," she said quietly. "I was terrified. And I guess - I guess I was ashamed. I didn't know what to do, and I didn't want you to have to - deal with me."

"Mon - "

"Just listen," she said. "I couldn't face it. I didn't want to believe it. I was angry, because I knew it was true. I didn't want you to have to deal with having a sick girlfriend, so I tried to separate myself from you, and, well, and everyone. It was stupid, I know, but I didn't know what to do. Then you got suspicious, and I sort of freaked out. Last week, I stayed at a hotel downtown, and I just thought about everything. I was going to come home, and tell everyone, and tell you that if you didn't want to be with me anymore, I'd understand." Monica said this slowly. Chandler felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. _Cancer?_ Monica had cancer. The idea was so unbelievable. Chandler tried to digest everything else Monica had said. "That was my plan," she continued. "But then I saw you at the coffee place, and you seemed so angry. I decided it would be easier if you were mad and we ended it like that. I didn't want to break up, but I - it would be easier. For you. And me."

"Monica," Chandler said. 

"Just wait. I'm sorry. That was a stupid thing to do, and I'm sorry if I hurt you."

"Monica," Chandler said, his voice meek. "You have cancer?" Monica nodded, her eyes becoming bright. "But you - you're twenty-nine! Twenty-nine year olds don't get breast cancer. Sixty-nine year olds get breast cancer, but not - not you - "

"I know," Monica whispered. "But it - it happens."

"And you thought that I wouldn't want to be with you, because of that?" Chandler asked incredulously. "I love you, Monica. Nothing can change that. I love you so much." He took her in his arms, and she curled up into a ball. "I want to be with you forever," he said, his voice high. "How bad - how bad is it?"

"Pretty bad," Monica whispered. 

"But there's got to be - something they can _do_," Chandler said, still refusing to accept that his girlfriend had cancer.

"The doctor said I can do chemotherapy," Monica said. "But that might not make it go away. It's bad, Chandler. They said it came on fast, that's far along - "

"No," Chandler said, holding her tightly. "No."

"Yes," Monica said. "I might only have - three years."

Chandler almost threw up. "That's not true. You are young and healthy. You're twenty-nine years old. This is 1999, they can _do_ stuff for cancer - "

"Please don't make this harder!" Monica said quietly. "This is why it would be easier if we broke up! I don't want you to go through this!"

Chandler turned Monica's head so they were looking straight into each other's eyes. "I could never stop loving you. I will be with you forever." At this point, they both crumbled. They sat there, holding each other, crying, for minutes, maybe hours. 

Monica was dying. That was why she'd disappeared, that was why she'd broken up with him - it was stupid and senseless, but Chandler could see her thought process. But everything he'd said was true. He would be with her no matter what. Nothing could make him stop loving her. 

"We're going to fight this," Chandler said ferociously. "And we're going to win. _You are not going to die._" 

"It's easier to accept it," Monica said, tears filling her eyes again. Chandler held her close to him. Accept it. He would never accept anything.

A/N: Maybe Monica wouldn't have reacted like that, but people do strange things when they are scared. And also, I'm not an expert on any medical stuff, so please bear with me. Thanks! 


	4. Someone Who's Dying

A/N: I'm sorry this chapter took so long! I've sort of been focusing on my other fic, Like We're Back Home Again, and two new fics that I just started. 

Disclaimer: I don't own them, blady blady blah....

CHAPTER FOUR - Someone Who's Dying

Later that day, Chandler asked, "Have you told your parents?"

"No," Monica said. "No one knows but you. But I know I have to. Will you - will you be there with me?"

"Of course," Chandler said, kissing the top of her head. "I will be with you no matter what."

And he was. Later that day, Monica and Chandler drove out to her parents house, and she told them. The Geller's were in shock, just as Chandler was. Monica left quickly, though, saying she couldn't deal with it. 

But she wasn't through. That night, Rachel, Ross, Phoebe, Joey, and Chandler all gathered at the apartment. When she told them, none of them believed her. Rachel turned white and almost fainted, and Ross started yelling that it wasn't true. Joey's face almost looked blank, like he couldn't even process it. Phoebe put her head in her hands and hardly made a sound. 

"You do not have cancer," Ross said, standing above his sister. "You _do not._" Chandler could imagine he yelling, _I command you to not die_. Had the situation not been so dire he would have laughed/

"I do, Ross," Monica said. "There's nothing I can do."

"But you'll - you'll be okay, right?" Joey asked, and it sounded as if he was begging. "You'll make it."

"The doctor's aren't sure," Monica said. "It's developed a lot. I can do chemo, but that might just give me a couple of years. The doctor said - three years, maybe four."

"No," Ross said. "Monica, please, please tell me this isn't true. _Please._" He got to his knees in front of Monica.

"It is," she said, hugging him. Before long, they were all huddled together, holding each other and crying. This could not happen. Monica could not be dying. It wasn't possible.

CHAPTER FOUR - Long, Hard Journey

Monica started chemotherapy and radiation four months later. She was in the hospital for a month and a half. Her hair all fell out, and she became thin. The chemo made her tired and ill. 

Every day, Chandler visited her in the hospital. Every night, after work, he went straight there and didn't leave until the nurses practically kicked him out. He spent every moment of his weekend in the depressing hospital room, talking to Monica, eating with her, kissing her when she cried and when she was in pain. 

When she came home, Monica tried to act like everything was normal. She went to work, but had to come home early often because she was too sick. 

Right after she came home, Monica suggested that Chandler move in with her. He spent almost every waking hour there anyway. Chandler agreed, and the very next day he and Rachel switched apartments. 

Even though Monica was sick, those were some of their best times together. She and Chandler went out together and had fun, just as they had done before. On nights when Monica wasn't up to going out, they stayed home, talking or watching movies or doing... other things. They were two young people and they were in love. No sickness could stop that. 

After the second round of chemotherapy, the doctors said Monica was in remission. She seemed healthy and returned to normal life. With Monica doing well and the doctor's good word, everybody was hopeful. Monica still took daily medication and went to the doctor's every few weeks, but other than that, everything seemed perfect for them. 

One night, nearly six months after Chandler had found out about Monica, he proposed. They had just had dinner at the Rainbow Room, and were walking through Central Park. The streetlights made the paths dark and romantic, and fireflies swam in swarms through the park. The hustle and bustle of the city was muffled by the tall trees and acres of open space. Chandler led Monica to a place next to a stream they used to escape to when they had first started going out, when it was still a secret. 

Chandler - with Joey and Ross's help - had placed candles and roses around a blanket in a clearing so close to the water that if they stretched out far enough, they could sink their toes into the warm mud on the shore. 

When Monica saw the burning candles and red roses, she stopped and raised her hands to her mouth. Her eyes were wide and glistening. Chandler kneeled down on knee. 

"Monica," he said, his voice husky. "You are the most important person in my life. You are my best friend, and my soulmate. I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?" He opened a black box and showed her a beautiful one karat diamond engagement ring. 

Monica was silent for a few moments before the tears started falling. "Yes," she whispered, and Chandler smiled like he'd never smiled before. "Yes, I will!" She put her left hand out, and kept her other hand over her mouth. She was sobbing and grinning at the same time, and she stomped her foot. "I'm not supposed to be crying!"

Chandler laughed, quickly wiping a fear tears from his own face, and slipped the ring on her finger. Then Monica kneeled next to him, and they wrapped their arms around each other, kissing. 

"I love you so much," Monica murmured as Chandler kissed her neck. 

"I love you too," Chandler said.

They kissed for a while, and then lay together on the blanket, holding each other, staring up at the stars and enjoying being together. Then Monica spoke. 

"Chandler," she said hesitantly. "Are you - are you sure you want to do this?"

Chandler frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Are you sure you want to marry me?"

Chandler sat up, causing Monica's head to fall backwards. He stared down at her as she raised herself onto her own elbows. "Of course I want to marry you. What are you talking about?"

"We should have talked about this before," Monica said quietly. "Chandler, I love you, and I want to marry you more than I've ever wanted to do anything in my life. But I'm - I'm sick."

"No, you're not," Chandler said. "You're better now. The cancer went away." His voice was small and childish. Suddenly, a horrible thought struck him, causing him to momentarily lose his voice. "Do you - did they tell you something? Monica, it didn't come back...."

"Not yet," Monica interrupted, rubbing his hand soothingly. She started to tear up again after realizing how terrified Chandler had become when he had thought she was sick again. "But I'm only in remission. It could come back at any time, worse than before."

"But not for a long time," Chandler said quickly.

"It could come back in twenty years. It could come back in two months," she said, her voice shaking. "What I'm saying is, do you really want to marry someone who's - who's dying?"

"You're not dying, and I want to marry you, because I love you," Chandler said, clutching her tightly and nuzzling her neck. "You understand me? I don't want to talk about this anymore. We're getting married. That's all the matters - right? Right, sweetheart?"

Monica decided to let it go. She was still coming to terms with the fact her life may not go on much longer - she couldn't expect Chandler to accept it. "Right," she said meekly, and they kissed again.

Everyone was thrilled to hear about their engagement. All of the friends had been torn between wondering _when_ Chandler would pop the question and if he would ever get up the nerve to do it at all. The two of them were so perfect for each other that it seemed to be a match made in heaven.

Their wedding was a large, happy occasion, just as Monica had always wanted. For the most part, during the planning of the marriage, Chandler stepped aside and let Monica pick out - well, everything. It was her day. This was so true that the other five began calling it "Monica Day" as a joke. 

The wedding went off without a hitch - well, besides that of Monica and Chandler. *haha - see, they got "hitched?" Ha? whatever* By the time the now _married_ couple walked down the aisle, everyone was crying. 

Everything seemed perfect. They were married, Monica was healthy - nothing could go wrong.

And it didn't - for two years, anyway. For two years, the couple celebrated and loved each other and enjoyed life to the fullest. Although they were both ready to have children, they decided they wanted to wait for Monica to receive a clean bill of health from the doctor. 

One the day of one of Monica's now monthly doctor's appointments, she called Chandler at work. "Chandler," she said. "You need to come home." Her voice was low and strange. Chandler was immediately terrified. Was one of their friends hurt? Had something happened to his family? For a while, the idea of her cancer did not enter his mind. 

It was only when he entered the apartment and saw her sitting nervously on the couch, her hands clasped together, did he think of it. His heart immediately plummeted, and the ground seemed to quiver beneath his feet. Monica looked up at him, and her eyes were red.

"No," he said. "No. Don't tell me." He raced over to the couch and knelt in front of her, taking both of her hands. "No, no, no - "

Monica nodded. "It's back," she whispered. "It's back." 

"No!" Chandler yelled, taking her hands and kissing them. "No, it's not." 

"It is," Monica said. "And it's spread." Chandler let out a cry and let his head fall into her lap. Monica remained sitting as the tears fell from her face. Chandler could feel them hitting his neck. "It's back, Chandler. And they don't think it can go away again."

The two of them cried together for hours. Chandler refused to believe that he was losing Monica. It wouldn't happen. Monica seemed fine, she was perfect, she was only thirty two...

But it was true. The cancer had come back in full force, and had spread from her breast to her liver. This time, Monica's health deteriorated quickly. Just two months after this terrible pronouncement, she was back in the hospital.

And this time, it didn't look like she was getting out.

A/N: Please review! Thanks, luv ya

Jen


	5. Can't Say Goodbye

A/N: Happy Thanksgiving! Again, thank you for reading and reviewing this story! This chapter was the hardest thing I've written - I actually had to stop halfway through because I was crying! I am such a baby, lol. But don't worry, it's not all sad. So here you go, the final chapter of "Tell Me What's Wrong."

Disclaimer: I don't own them... I mean, who would get up ehre and say they did? Marta Kauffman isn't going to write a story and post it here.

EPILOGUE - Can't Say Good-bye

Those last months were bittersweet for Chandler and Monica. For three months, Monica was in and out of the hospital. She was usually sick, sometimes only recovering from a bout for three or four days before becoming ill again. 

After a while, everyone was just waiting for the day to come. They all loved Monica so much, but she was in so much pain. All but Chandler began to admit to themselves that, after the doctors announced there was nothing they could do, it would be better for Monica to die peacefully. 

For the last week, Chandler spent every moment at her bedside. Monica slept most of the time, but when she was awake, they talked about the good times, looked at pictures, laughed and cried and held each other. One day Monica brought something up that Chandler hadn't expected.

He had been dozing in the chair, thinking Monica was asleep. He sat up, startled, when he heard her say, "Chandler."

"Yes, sweetheart," Chandler said. 

"I want to talk to you about something." Her voice was flat and thin, as it usually was now. 

"Anything, babes."

"I just want you to know, that after I'm gone, I want you to move on," Monica said. She swallowed hard, like it was difficult to speak. 

"What do you mean?"

"I want you to fall in love again," Monica explained. 

"We don't need to talk about this," Chandler said quickly. 

"Yes, we do. I want you to be happy. I love you so much, I just want you to be as happy as you can. Date again as soon as you want to. Have sex. Fall in love. Get - get married." 

"No," Chandler said. "You know you are the only woman I will ever love."

"I don't want you to be sad forever," Monica cried, becoming emotional. "I want you to be happy. Can you promise me you will try to be happy?"

"I can try," Chandler whispered. "But I can't promise you anything. You are my life. My whole entire life."

"I don't want to be your whole life forever," Monica said. "I'm dying. I just want you to know that if you want to get married again, I want you to. Don't ever feel guilty. Don't think I'm angry with you for being with another woman, because I'm not. Do you understand that?"

"Yes," Chandler said. He lowered his lips to his wife's. "I love, you, Monica. I will love you forever."

"I love you too,'' Monica said.

They took her off the respirator six days later.

She was awake to see them all one last time. One by one, she called Ross, Rachel, Phoebe, Joey, and her parents in to say good-bye. Every single person came out sobbing. Rachel was crying so hard that she almost passed out. 

Then it was Chandler's turn. He steeled himself, trying to prepare for what was sure to be the most horrible moment of his life. "Hi, baby," he said as he walked in.

Monica smiled, wiping some tears from her eyes. "Hi." He sat down next to her, taking her hand. They stared into each other's eyes for a moment.

"I love you," Chandler said finally. "You know that I will always love you. Forever."

"I love you too," Monica said. "I wish we could be together forever. I wish things were different."

"I know," Chandler said, beginning to cry. "Oh my God, Monica, I can't... I can't say good-bye. I can't, I can't... it hurts too much." He broke off, unable to say any more for tears.

"So don't," Monica said, also sobbing. "Just know that I love you. I have never loved anyone as much as I love you. And I'll see you again. I promise you I will. We'll be together forever. I'm always here," she put his hand, under hers, to his heart, and then kissed him. "I'll be with you forever."

They were all together when Monica took her last breath. "Good bye," she whispered, her voice hoarse, her eyes fluttering shut. "I love you." 

"She's gone," Chandler murmured, staring blankly at Monica's pale face. 

"No!" Rachel cried, falling hysterically into Ross's arms. Mr. Geller led his wife out, and the rest stood there, staring at Monica, sobbing. Chandler continued to hold her hand, raising it at intervals to kiss it. He could not comprehend that Monica was gone.

He stayed with her body for hours, crying and screaming and at times just sitting, staring at the face that had for years been the face of the woman he loved. Finally, they made him leave.

Her funeral was beautiful and bright, just as Monica herself had been. It was perfect. Just as he had felt at the hospital, Chandler could not tear himself away from his wife's open casket. He leaned down to kiss her deathly pale cheek one last time, and then he left, wishing at that moment that he was the one in the coffin.

For awhile, Chandler thought he could not go on without Monica. He barely ate, didn't sleep. He would spend hours in their apartment, looking at pictures, going through her things, smelling her clothes. Slowly, he began to distribute some of her things between he group. 

Slowly, over the course of many, many, months, he began the recovery process. He thought about Monica every day, dreamt about her, talked to her and wrote letters to her. The one-sided conversations he had with he were pathetic and painful, but he couldn't stop them. He knew, somehow, that she was watching him, listening to him speak, answering him even if he couldn't hear her. He'd never really known if he'd believed in heaven until now, and now, he knew he did. Monica was with him wherever he went. 

And he was not the only one grieving enormously. Chandler had perhaps lost the worst thing - a wife. Ross, and similarly, Rachel, just about, had lost a sister, Joey a mentor, Phoebe a confidant. All had lost a best friend, and that is something you never recover from - never forget. The five felt incomplete, like they were missing something, and they were - Monica. One sixth of one whole. She was gone. 

But they spoke about her as much as possible. For a while, they avoided even saying her name in front of Chandler, but before long, they realized he yearned to keep her memory alive. And so they did. 

"My wife was beautiful. Not just physically beautiful - although she was. Boy, she was." A few people chuckled. "But inside, too. She was kind and good-hearted. She helped me and the rest of our friends through the roughest times in our lives. She supported us and cheered us on through loves and successes, and cried with us when a relationship flopped or a job fell through." Here, Joey smiled.

"But she was robbed of her beauty and her life. She and thousands of other women die every year from breast cancer. Breast cancer is not selective, and it does not choose it's victims based on age or race or life experiences. Your wife or sister or mother could be next. But there is something we can do, and that is why we are here today. To fight a disease that we _must_ beat before we lose another young, vibrant woman just beginning her life." 

Chandler paused, looking away from the crowd in the banquet room and at the large picture of Monica at twenty nine. He blinked rapidly and held up his glass. "To Monica."

"To Monica," the 100-plus group murmured. And to Monica, they drank. 

It was the first Monica Geller-Bing Breast Cancer Foundation Banquet. After Monica's death, Chandler struggled with the thought that something could have been done for her. When he came to terms with the idea that there couldn't have been anything, that technology wasn't yet advanced enough, he was devastated.

But then, one day not even six months after Monica's death, Chandler was going into the grocery store when his eye was caught by a large pink ribbon on a sign in front. 

"Breast Cancer foundation," he thought. He walked by it, overcome by thoughts of Monica. While he was in the grocery store, he was thinking, and then, it hit him. There was nothing he could do for Monica. But there was something he could do for future victims of breast cancer.

On his way out, he stopped in front of the booth. "I'd like to make a donation," he said, pulling out his chequebook. The woman smiled as he scribbled in it. "This is for my wife. Monica," he said, folding the cheque and handing it to the woman.

"Oh, is she battling it?" she said sympathetically. Chandler knew what she was thinking. _He's so young, how sad to have a sick wife._

"No," Chandler said, shaking his head. "No. She died six months ago."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," the woman said. "But thank you." Chandler nodded, and left, pushing his cart. A few seconds later, the woman came scurrying after him. "Sir! Sir!" She breathlessly arrived next to him. "That was - very, very generous of you. We are very grateful."

Chandler just nodded and smiled again at the look on the woman's face.

He had written her a five thousand dollar cheque.

But Chandler didn't stop there. The next day, he heard about the family of a victim of drunk-driving who had a charity auction for MADD. And it gave him an idea. He immediately called up Ross and Rachel. The two were dating again after falling into each other's arms, literally and figuratively, after Monica's death. 

"I want to have a banquet to raise money for breast cancer," he explained. "To help other people - Rach and Pheebs, and if you guys ever have daughters - I want to have the technology to help them like we couldn't help Monica."

It was a fantastic idea, and four months later, on what would have been Monica's thirty-third birthday, they had it. The first banquet raised almost thirty thousand dollars. 

It was a success. That first, difficult year was made easier for Chandler by the thought that he was helping someone, even if it was just one woman, one family - they were helping.

And Chandler knew that Monica knew. 

_Eight years later..._

Chandler remarried seven years after Monica died. His new wife, a thirty-seven year old woman named Savannah, was kind and gentle and loud, and for a while, the other five were afraid Chandler was trying to replace Monica. 

But he wasn't. Savannah was wonderful, but she wasn't Monica. Chandler loved her anyway. They were almost as good for each other as Chandler and Monica had been.

Before proposing to Savannah, Chandler went to Ross. "I'm going to ask Savannah to marry me. I just want to make sure that's okay with you."

"Chandler, you didn't have to ask me. I am so happy for you," Ross said. He hadn't seen Chandler as happy as he'd been with Savannah since Monica had been alive, and Ross knew that Monica wanted, and that he wanted, Chandler to be happy. 

So Chandler married Savannah, and they _were_ happy. Savannah became pregnant two years after they got married. One night, when Savannah was six months pregnant, she was awoken, by Chandler crying softly in bed.

"Honey, what's the matter?" she asked, concerned.

"Nothing. Just go back to sleep."

"No, sweetie, tell me. What's wrong?"

Chandler sat up, trying to be manly and wipe his eyes. "Nothing. It's just - it's our anniversary. Mine and Monica's, I mean. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." 

"It's okay, baby," Savannah said, hugging Chandler. "It's okay to cry."

"You know I love you so much, Van," Chandler whispered.

"I know."

"It's just, Monica..."

"Monica was your first love," Savannah said. "I know. And it's okay." Savannah never minded when Chandler talked about Monica, made references to his former wife, got together with his brother- and parents-in-law. That was the wonderful thing about Savannah. Chandler hadn't been her first love either, and she wasn't afraid to say that. And Savannah had lost a brother suddenly when she was young, so she knew the long-term pain that came with the death of a loved one.

So she comforted Chandler. She celebrated Monica's birthday with the group and went to all the banquets. She even encouraged Chandler to tell their young daughter, Cecilia, who's the pretty lady was whose picture they kept on the mantelpiece. Cecilia took to calling her "Aunt Monica."

So Chandler led a happy, joyous life. But it was a different one then he'd had with Monica. Both Monica and Savannah were the loves of his life. 

But he never forgot Monica. She was the first woman he'd ever loved. Nothing could change that.

A/N: I know! I'm sorry Monica died. But things turned out okay, right? Chandler still lived a happy life. Please tell me if you think this chapter was good, or if it sucked! I'm still waiting for the nasty flames everybody talks about getting. Okay, thanks again! 

LUL

Jen


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